


Bird on a Wire

by StripySock



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Anniversary of Goose's death, Character Glimpse, First Kiss, M/M, They both stayed at Top Gun, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/pseuds/StripySock
Summary: Hiding in plain sight is tough, but Maverick considers himself a master of disguise.
Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	Bird on a Wire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplecoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/gifts).



> Happy Trick or Treat!

Maverick lives his life on a high thin ledge. That bit isn't a secret to anyone who has ever met him. The sensation of falling at any second, is what keeps him flying. "Can't win if you don't play," is his refrain for pretty much his whole life - the next drink at The O Club, picking up a cue to demolish the competition, bluffing a shitty hand at poker. He thrives off that shit, it keeps the engine ticking over. There's an invincibleness in living with your chest torn open and your heart exposed, even if it means almost anyone can reach their hand in and squeeze.

It's a bit of a fucker that the flipside is the ease with which Ice manages to slide in, somewhere between his ribs and put a cool hand around his heart. It's unnerving not just to be watched, but to be seen. Unnerving to feel Ice's gaze on his back, to know that when he puts a foot wrong, Ice observes it. For the first time in his life, he considers the possibility that if he falls, someone might catch him. For anyone else, the knowledge might be comforting. For Maverick it's disconcerting. He's been a high wire artist without a net for too long.

Some night when he's being playing it high, fast and loose, a little too frenetic, looking for a fight, and itching with the need for it, for something to keep him grounded and real, Ice is there. Maverick feels his eyes before he ever sees him, turns and Ice is there leaning against the bar, beer in his hand. Just watching. Maverick salutes him with his pool cue, and smiles. Ice takes that as his cue to come a little closer

"Red letter day?" Ice says, voice deceptively mild. The beer is sweating in his hand.

It's a red letter day, Maverick supposes, it's outlined in blood in his mental calendar anyway. "Something like that," he says, turns his back on Ice to take his next shot, grins at his opponent who is looking suitably cowed. Somewhere, underneath everything, Goose's smile is digging knives into him, a wound that Maverick doesn't think will ever heal. When he moves wrong, it tugs at him, semi-knitted scar tissue. He mostly doesn't think about it. It's just days like this, when it gets so big and heavy that he feels like the weight of it will drag him back to earth to burn alongside Goose. 

He sizes up the mettle of his competition and dismisses it. Maverick could cheat him blind and break his pool cue over the guy's back and he isn't getting anything back but an apology, maybe payment for the cue. Tired of it, he finishes up the match in minutes, a demolishing rather than a victory.

Unsurprisingly Ice is still there when Maverick finishes up, with a clap to his opponent's back and a friendly handshake with the promise to give him his revenge sometime. Ice, Maverick is suddenly sure. Ice will fight him. Christ, Maverick needs that. The liquor isn't doing shit, the memory of that phone call with Carol earlier burned hot into his mind, fuck, her _kindness,_ the way she'd asked, _and how you doing Pete?_ like, like he'd lost as much as her. The only way to cover it up is to cut it out. He just doesn't know how to start. Ice is hard to pick a fight with, he generally tends to do the fight picking.

"Come on," he says to Ice. Doesn't need to know that Ice follows him out the door. Is completely unsurprised, just grateful when Ice pushes him up against the back wall, every nerve in his body ready for a fight, steeled for it, for the punch that never comes. 

Instead Ice holds him there, inches away, fucking looks into his eyes, and that is not what Maverick signed up for. "This it?" Ice says, all cool and distant. "This what you need Mav. Danger good enough for you?" This close, pinned by Ice's bulk and the laser focus of his regard, it's near on unbearable. 

"Fuck you," Maverick says, and he can hear it in his own voice, the desperation.

Ice isn't looking at him any differently though. There's no pity, no compassion, no gentleness. It's kind of how Ice always looks at him. Like the way Ice looks at something he wants to know about, the way he looks at his F-14, Mav's bike. Like it's something he wants to ride. That last thought brings a flush to Maverick's face, he can feel it burn across his cheeks.

"Yeah," Ice says, and he's still looking, but there's something a little different, a little softer around the eyes. In the end it seems, a kiss will do about as good a job as a punch. Ice crowding him in, taking more of a risk than any mission could ever be, like Maverick's worth that. He would say he isn't, but Ice makes his own choices.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading


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